by Paige Toon
‘Are you kidding? It’s been the best day of my life!’ Em squeals, making us laugh.
Natalie cracks open a can of Coke. ‘It’s not over yet,’ she says, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously at me.
An hour or so later, we’re winding our way up through the hills of Bel Air, home to loads of the rich and famous. My friends try to catch glimpses of the mansions behind the high garden walls and neatly trimmed hedges.
‘That’s where Charlotte Tremway lives,’ I point out.
‘Oh, wow!’ Libby exclaims, whipping round to look at me. ‘Don’t you know her?’
I nod. ‘We’ve hung out a few times,’ I reply.
Charlotte Tremway – or Lottie, as her friends call her – is the star of one of our favourite TV shows: Little Miss Mulholland. Lottie’s dad is the executive producer and he’s mega wealthy. It was at his fortieth birthday party that I met Jack.
As I gaze out of the window, I let my thoughts drift to the guy who may or may not be my boyfriend. He’s eighteen, with black hair and blue-grey eyes, and he’s tall and fit and so damn sexy that he makes my blood sing. I can’t wait to kiss him again.
The memory of his fingers in my hair and his body pressed against mine brings on a hot flush, and then I’m jolting with shock as I realise that this same memory is the moment I cheated on Tom. I flash Tom a guilty look and try to push Jack from my mind.
I’m so relieved he’s not here. The thought of him and Tom meeting is too awful to contemplate.
As we drive through the gates of the Jefferson mansion, everyone sits up straighter and stares out of the windows. It’s getting dark now so there’s not much to be seen, but lights from the house are glowing through the leafless trees situated outside my bedroom window.
‘What’s that?’ I hear Natalie ask and I look to my left to see a huge white structure in the garden.
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ I murmur, confused.
‘It looks like a giant igloo,’ Dougie comments.
Indeed it does. What the hell? And then I see a group of people I don’t recognise lurking in among the trees and suddenly other things register – bam, bam, bam – one after the other: the festoon lights glowing in the branches; music coming from unseen speakers; and Jack, Agnes and my All Hype bandmates, Brandon and Miles, standing on the drive as the bus pulls to a stop. My mouth drops open, aghast, and then I’m looking at Tom.
Oh, shit.
Chapter 3
‘Surprise!’ Agnes shouts, as I warily step off the bus. She runs forward and, as she embraces me, I gaze over her shoulder at Jack.
‘Hey,’ he says, sounding amused as he tugs me out of his sister’s arms. He gives me a hug and releases me so that I can say hi to our bandmates, but, as he withdraws, his lips brush against my ear. That small contact alone makes my heart flutter and we haven’t even kissed. We can’t kiss. Not here, not now.
The reason Agnes is the only one of our American friends who knows about our relationship is because Brandon and Miles would hit the roof if Jack got it on with another All Hype singer. Eve, their last lead singer, quit because it didn’t work out between her and Jack, causing all manner of grief. Back in the autumn, when I returned to LA, they were auditioning for a guy so history would have no chance of repeating itself – but their attempts failed and they widened the net.
Jack is known for being… tactile. But he swore to Brandon and Miles that he wouldn’t jeopardise the band by mixing business with pleasure again.
Whoops.
We figured it might be a good idea to keep our relationship under wraps for a bit.
‘What the hell is going on?’ I gasp, extracting myself from Brandon to look towards the giant white structure in the back garden. ‘And what is that?’
‘It’s an inflatable igloo,’ Agnes states nonchalantly. ‘An igloo disco. You’re having a party.’
‘But I don’t know enough people to fill that thing!’ I exclaim.
‘Agnes has invited half of your class,’ Miles tells me.
‘Actually, I’ve invited all of your class and all of the year above, too,’ Agnes corrects him. ‘You don’t want to leave anyone out when you’re starting a new school. They’d hate you for it.’
At this point, Johnny joins us. ‘Did you know about this?’ I ask him, probably resembling a goldfish.
He raises one eyebrow at me. Stupid question. As if anyone could have got it past him.
‘He masterminded it,’ Agnes chips in with a grin. ‘He gave me permission to invite everyone.’
‘She’s been on her phone for the last two days solid,’ Jack says.
‘But I thought you were in Washington?’
‘We were,’ Jack replies. ‘She’s been organising your social calendar from there.’
They came back early for this? For me? Jack gives me a sexy, lazy smile and my heart skips a beat. Must not kiss him. Must not kiss him.
‘Meg’s taken Phoenix and Barney to stay at a friend’s tonight,’ Johnny tells me.
‘Speaking of which, introduce us to your friends!’ Agnes cries.
I come down to earth with a bump. Anxiety racks my stomach as I turn to see that everyone is now off the bus. I point at each of them, saying their names. I feel Jack tense as I get to Tom, and Tom has seen pictures of him, so he knows exactly who Jack is. Gulp. If looks could kill…
I’d give anything for a bolt of lightning to strike a hole in the ground so I could jump into it. Damn LA for being so storm-free.
‘Right, ladies!’ Agnes barks. ‘Come with me!’
‘Where are we going?’ I hiss, as she drags me away, hoping that Jack will make himself scarce and won’t attempt to speak to Tom.
‘You’re not wearing that to your sixteenth birthday party,’ Agnes states, glancing at my jeans and T-shirt. ‘I’ve brought some stuff. For your friends, too.’
This should come as no great surprise. Agnes wants to be a fashion designer and styled me for my recent All Hype gig. She’s always telling me what to wear. Not that I mind. She’s brilliant at what she does.
Sam, my favourite security man, is waiting inside the house. I say hi to him as we head up the stairs to get ready. I assume he’s in charge of making sure the majority of guests stay outside tonight.
‘I’ve set everything up in your room,’ Agnes tells me.
I belatedly realise that my friends are not immediately behind us. Coming to a stop on the landing, I turn to see them walking in a daze up the wide staircase, looking around at the house that I now call home. The architecture is modern and open-plan and the furniture is designer and minimal. Enormous floor-to-ceiling windows offer a view over our infinity pool to the City of Angels in the valley below. I smile at the expressions on my friends’ faces.
‘My room is this way,’ I say, turning right at the top of the stairs.
Agnes has set up two clothes rails in my bedroom and they’re bursting with colourful, shimmering party dresses. ‘Choose anything you like,’ she directs my friends. ‘You,’ she says to me, ‘are wearing this.’
She passes me a long emerald-green dress. It has an asymmetrical strap going diagonally across one shoulder and it’s cut square under the opposing arm, with a thigh-length slit up the side.
‘I love this colour on you,’ she says, and I’m reminded of the first time I wore a green dress belonging to her. She took me to Lottie Tremway’s house to hang out. ‘Try it on.’
All around me, my friends eagerly strip off and do just that with the glittering array of dresses hanging on the rails. I don’t hesitate to join them. The green dress fits like a dream.
‘Oh, wow!’ Lou says suddenly. She’s staring straight at me.
‘You look amazing!’ Libby exclaims.
Agnes, appearing pretty pleased with herself, pushes me in front of the floor-length mirror.
‘Oh, Agnes!’ I squeak. ‘I love this dress!’
My American friend is a couple of inches taller than me, at about five foot eight, and her very
dark hair has been cut into a blunt bob. Her trademark eyeliner is perfectly applied in its usual feline flick. Her reflection briefly smiles back at me, but a moment later she’s serious and businesslike again. ‘Strappy heels,’ she decides abruptly, going to my wardrobe and hunting some out.
Natalie flashes me a knowing smile. I’ve told her Agnes is a force to be reckoned with.
‘Did you know about tonight?’ I ask Natalie, remembering her earlier mischievous look and her comment about the night not being over.
‘I knew something was happening,’ she admits. ‘I heard Johnny talking to Stu.’
‘I didn’t have a clue,’ Libby interjects.
‘I bet your dad didn’t trust us not to blab,’ Lou points out with a smirk.
‘On that note,’ I say, growing serious, ‘Brandon and Miles don’t have a clue about Jack and me getting together, so please be careful what you say.’ I turn to Natalie. ‘Can you warn Aaron and Dougie?’
‘Sure.’ She nods decisively.
‘I’ll tell Chris and Tom,’ Lou chips in.
‘Thanks.’ I flash her a grateful smile.
Lou and I hit it off straight away when she joined our school last term, but, after I left England, she and Libby became friends. It bothered me initially, the thought of them growing closer without me, but hopefully I’ll feel better when I make new friends of my own.
A flurry of nerves goes through me at the thought of starting school in a couple of days.
I refocus on the here and now and realise with a jolt that everyone is dressed.
Lou has chosen a metallic silver slip dress, Libby has gone for a long black dress with beaded detailing and Natalie has opted for a midnight-blue fringe dress. They all look totally stunning, and I tell them so.
‘Do you really like your dress?’ Agnes asks.
‘I love it,’ I reply with awe.
‘Good, because it’s your birthday present. I made it for you,’ she adds with a sheepish smile.
‘You made this?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Bloody hell, Agnes! You are so talented, it’s not even funny!’
She blushes as I throw my arms round her.
‘You’re not done yet,’ she says with a giggle, pulling away. ‘I have to do your hair and make-up.’
She’s halfway through when the door flies open and Lottie bursts in.
‘There you are!’ she shouts, spying me. ‘Your man downstairs told me that no one without an English accent was allowed inside. It’s just as well I can act.’
‘Hello, you,’ I say, laughing, certain that Sam knew exactly who she was. She must’ve been on his list of friends allowed inside. ‘Everyone, this is Lottie,’ I say after I’ve given her a hug. Only then do I realise that the room has fallen silent. They’re all completely star-struck by the A-lister in their midst. I laugh as I introduce her to everyone.
‘Are you guys nearly done?’ Lottie asks, flicking her long dark hair back. She’s wearing a red dress and looks unbelievable as usual, with bright red lipstick to match, her perfectly curved eyebrows framing her oval face.
‘Pretty much,’ Agnes answers her question, dusting some blusher onto my cheeks with a fat brush.
‘Good, because I really need a drink.’
I hate to disappoint her, but I doubt there’ll be booze. Johnny is teetotal. Although he has let me have the odd drink in the past, so maybe we’ll be allowed one or two…
‘Why are you so desperate for a drink?’ I ask Lottie, as she and I lead the way back downstairs.
‘I need a distraction.’
‘From what?’ I frown at her.
‘Brandon,’ she mutters.
I soon discover what her problem is. Maisie, Brandon’s girlfriend, is here. Brandon usually keeps her all to himself – I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend at first because he always flirts with Lottie and it’s hard to imagine how any girl could ever compete with her. But I met Maisie at the All Hype gig and she’s lovely, with big dark eyes and a shy sweetness about her. She and Brandon have been going out for a long time.
I didn’t actually know that Lottie cared this much, so I’m kind of flattered she shared her feelings with me.
As soon as I get outside, I’m hit by another attack of anxiety. Earlier I managed to convince myself that Jack and Tom will have kept their distance from each other, but now I’m not so sure. We head straight for the igloo, where ‘Reptilia’ by The Strokes is blaring from the speakers.
‘I take it your dad’s responsible for the playlist,’ Jack says drily, materialising at my side. My heartbeat spikes. There are dozens of people around us, but my attention is now entirely on him. He looks hot in grey jeans and a fitted black shirt. His rolled-up sleeves reveal his comic-book-style POW! tattoo on his right forearm.
‘What’s wrong with the playlist?’ I ask, trying to act cool when all I really want to do is pounce on him. ‘I love this song.’
‘So do I, but Isaac over there tells me he’s only allowed to play stuff from the 2000s for the first coupla hours.’ He glances in the DJ’s direction. ‘So far we’ve had The White Stripes, Arctic Monkeys, Gorillaz, The Libertines, The Streets and Yeah Yeah Yeahs.’
‘What are you complaining about?’ I smirk. ‘You love those guys.’
‘Yeah, but do we really need to hear only stuff from your dad’s decade? He’ll be playing Fence next.’
Fence is the name of Johnny’s band from before he went solo.
‘I was born in the 2000s,’ I point out. ‘I’m sure it’s more about that than my dad’s ego.’
‘If you say so.’
I grin at him because I know he’s teasing. ‘I’m sure you can get on the decks later,’ I say.
He cocks one eyebrow at me. ‘You think?’ He sounds sardonic. ‘I’m sure Isaac would love that.’
‘Who is Isaac?’ I ask with a frown.
‘Isaac Paulson.’
‘Oh, wow.’ No further introduction needed. He’s, like, an incredibly famous DJ. ‘My dad really went for it.’
A couple of seconds later, the smile on Jack’s face fades.
‘So.’
Even from this one word, I know that’s the end of our light-hearted conversation.
‘Tom, hey?’
‘I had no idea he was coming,’ I reply fervently, hating the change of subject. ‘But I’m glad he did,’ I add, prompting Jack’s eyes to widen fractionally. ‘I mean, I emailed him,’ I quickly explain. ‘I wanted us to stay friends. I’m glad he’s willing to try.’
Jack stares at me humourlessly for a long few seconds. ‘You want to stay friends,’ he repeats slowly.
‘Surely you don’t mind?’ I say irritably. ‘If you avoided every girl you’d ever hooked up with, you wouldn’t have any female friends at all.’
He averts his gaze and I feel a little bad, but unfortunately what I’ve just said is pretty damn accurate. Agnes told me that Jack has messed around with loads of her friends – even Lottie – and I have no idea how many girls he’s gone all the way with. I’m sure he had sex with Eve, my All Hype predecessor.
As my thought process plays out, I feel increasingly nauseated. And here I am thinking that we might actually have a shot at being boyfriend and girlfriend.
‘How many girls have you slept with?’ I find myself asking.
His eyebrows jump up. ‘Are we really having this conversation now?’
‘No.’ I shake my head and look away, slightly mortified that that just came out. ‘No, we’re not. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to know.’
We stand there in stony silence. ‘Hey,’ he says eventually, rubbing his thumb across my hipbone. I jump at the contact, then glare up at him. ‘People are gonna think we’re having an argument,’ he says.
‘Aren’t we?’ I challenge him.
‘No,’ he says reasonably. ‘We’re having a conversation. But this subject is not going down too well so how ’bout we change it?’
‘Great idea,’ I reply sarcas
tically.
I stiffen as he slides his hand round my back and draws me closer, leaning in to speak in my ear. ‘You look hot, by the way.’
My body softens towards him and then Brandon sticks his face between ours, making us both jerk away from each other. ‘Hands off my bandmate,’ he jokes, pointing one finger mock accusingly at Jack.
Brandon is tall, slim and very good-looking with light-blond hair styled in a quiff. He has a tattoo of a seagull on his right shoulder, and you can just see the bird’s feet poking out from beneath the short sleeves of the tropical Hawaiian shirt he’s wearing. A little bit of irony in the middle of winter. Not that it’s particularly cold here. This is LA we’re talking about.
‘Jessie, Maisie, you’ve met,’ Brandon says, bringing his girlfriend into our huddle.
‘Hi.’ I give her a warm smile.
‘Happy birthday,’ she replies timidly.
Suddenly Natalie grabs my hand and yanks me away.
‘Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Margarita Ramirez!’ she demands to know.
‘I don’t know Margarita Ramirez,’ I reply hopelessly.
Margarita Ramirez is an all-singing, all-dancing child star turned sexy popstar.
‘There she is, over there!’ Natalie squawks.
I follow the line of her extended digit to see that Margarita Ramirez does indeed appear to be on the other side of the igloo. She’s petite and curvy with olive-toned skin and glossy black hair that curls in waves to halfway down her back. She’s absolutely stunning.
‘Wait, is she talking to Gina Miranda?’ I ask in astonishment, looking at the tiny, ringlet-haired redhead standing next to her.
Gina plays the teenage daughter of a drug lord in an edgy crime drama series that got some of the best TV ratings of last year.
Natalie swears under her breath. ‘Holy shit, she is! And Oh. My. God. Who is that?’
I follow her gaze and my eyes light on an absolutely drop-dead gorgeous guy. He’s got to be a male model. I can’t think of any other explanation for someone who looks as smoking as he does.
